


La Vita Primus

by firelord65



Series: Vivat Rex [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Hux is in charge and you'd better believe he loves it, Jealous Kylo Ren, Knights and Royalty are just so fun to put together, Multi, Pre-Threesome, Rey kicks ass, Reylux Network Prompt Exchange, UST, burgeoning polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Medieval AU] & [Prompt Fill]</p><p>Rey, a knight with no order, fights the Champion of Primus in an attempt to seek her true heritage. Kylo Ren doesn't take well to being challenged, much less lose. Lord Hux, regent of Primus and reigning ruler, also despises the event but relishes in the opportunity to gain a new knight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Vita Primus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mster70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mster70/gifts).



> Prompt Fill:  
> Medieval AU (or this could totally be a Song of Ice and Fire AU if the filler is a fan! :D), Hux is the king, Kylo is his First Knight/personal bodyguard and his (not so) secret lover.  
> Rey is a young up-and-coming free rider who wants to join Hux’s knights. She shows up to a melee tournament and squarely kicks Kylo’s ass. Kylo, being himself, is equal parts furious and aroused at being defeated by the young woman. Queue Hux and Kylo becoming fascinated with Rey and deciding to seduce her - and she’s totally on board with it.
> 
> \---  
> Some facts from the original prompt have been altered because I AM FINICKY AND CANNOT BE TRUSTED. Hope that you still enjoy it! I spent days thinking about the best way to approach it :3 There's also probs going to be a follow up with this, nottt gonna lie. I have one scene in particular that I really wanted to put in here and just ran out of time to include it with the pacing I ended up with.

“Woah, girl,” the steel-clad knight soothed her steed with a soft pat on the mare’s neck. The crowds around them were unnerving the warhorse, if only because of how they brushed against her flanks so fearlessly. Truth be told, the knight herself wasn’t too keen of the crowds, either. People didn’t crowd in Jakku. Even when water shipments were scarce or raiders threatened the outer reaches, those who lived in Jakku trusted themselves and their own only. 

In Primus, things were quite different. Folk crowded together behind the city walls for any conceivable reason. Rey looked over the throngs of people slowly plodding about the streets, her teeth worrying her bottom lip fervently. It wasn’t natural, the trust these common folk had in each other. 

With a click of her tongue, Rey coaxed her mare back to a trot, forcing her way to her destination. As unnatural as it may be, she was here in the capital and she was going to have to deal with the people who went along with being in this kingdom. “Fairgrounds, fairgrounds,” she murmured under her breath. “How hard is it to put up signposts?”

A small child scurried up to her and tugged on the reigns, catching the young knight’s attention. Her mare followed the tug, nostrils flaring at the sharp pull on the bit. “Don’t do that,” Rey admonished, frowning tightly at the young boy. 

The child stared up with hungry eyes and a perfectly pouted lip. “Spare a copper for a kiddie on the streets, Sir?” he asked, his arm ram-rod straight as he reached up to her. 

Rey shook her head and waved him off with one hand. “Go see a poorhouse,” she said quickly. “And if I catch you or your friends making for my coin, I’ll cut off both of your thumbs.” Behind her back, Rey heard the scurrying sounds of another youth fleeing in terror. The boy’s eyes widened with genuine emotion and he left without another word. His worn tunic blended seamlessly into the fabrics about him, masking him from Rey’s view. 

She slowly loosened her grip on her beltknife before she nudged her mare back into motion.  _ Thieves _ , she thought darkly. They were just as terrible here as in Jakku, only it was harder to tell who was who in the crowded streets. The sooner she reached the fairgrounds, the better. Then she could be among her people - proper knights and noble warriors.

“Let’s go, Falca,” Rey chirped, tugging her helmet more firmly atop her head. 

\---

Knight Master Kylo Ren stood brooding, his arms crossed and his face a tight scowl. It was a look he was well known for among the entirety of the populace of Primus. Even the terrible nickname he’d been bestowed didn’t dissuade him from his temperament. On most days it would only further irritate the nobleman, much to everyone else’s ire. 

Today’s dark mood was focused entirely on the pathetic carnival of events going on in the capital. For once, it wasn’t a metaphor. Kylo Ren purely despised the literal carnival events which were happening just inside the main gates. The kingdom’s citizens were worked practically into a frenzy over the events occurring this week, draining his already limited patience for the common populace. 

But what he hated even more than the drunken revelling and constant barrage of noise - which continued even through the night watch - was his place in the damned circus. One of the King’s advisors had decided that perhaps it would be interesting to involve the feared and respected Knights of Ren in the colosseum at all. Once the idea had been placed in his head, no amount of begging or promise of favors to be paid to the royal could dissuade him from putting the Knight Master into the fair.

And so Kylo Ren stood inside the gates of the fairgrounds, watching would-be contestants fight for the privilege of dueling the Champion of Primus. So far he found the competition wanting. The current frontrunner was a barbarian from the outer wastelands of Primus. Kylo would be surprised if the woman was able to grunt her own name through all the missing teeth and bruises to her face. 

The ring was cleared and the last pair of entries slowly filtered in. Kylo sighed slowly, his hopes of an actual challenge dashed. Both were in clearly second-hand armor and one had the audacity to bear the coat of arms of some pitiful backwater fiefdom. He turned away from the colosseum and stalked back to the stables, resigned to his foul temper. 

His stepped past a pair of palace guards flanking a small opening leading up to the private viewing booths. They said nothing, watching the Champion of Primus quietly fume over the indignity of having to fight a commoner. In this instance alone he envied their role. Silent sentinels watching over the well-to-do, resigned to their service of the nobility. He on the other hand  _ was  _ nobility. His lineage was traced for more generations that many nations at their borders had even existed. It was  _ insulting _ to be forced to duel some mud-soaked peasant hoping for even a sliver of the glory his name bore. 

Rather than watch the rest of the matches - and suffer through summer’s midday heat - Kylo took refuge between the wooden beams of the stables. His own steed had been moved from his normal quarters at the castle’s stables, forced just as his master was to be among the common swine. 

Finally the time came that he was to meet his challenger. A skittish stablehand summoned him, quivering in their muck-stained boots as they told him which entrance he and his horse were to ride through. Kylo grimaced, but otherwise he followed the directions. His mount was brought to him and he swung atop the stallion in a haphazard clatter of armor. 

Surprise took him when one of the fair workers passed him his lance and shield. “They’re skilled in jousting?” he demanded, gripping the man hard to keep him from escaping the question. 

The man’s eyes were wide, but his voice remained steady. “Not as skilled as yourself, Sir,” he replied quickly. “They are a knight, though. From the land of Jakku.” Kylo snarled, pushing the man away roughly.

“Jakku has no nobility, you fool,” he continued even as he strapped his shield to his forearm. “You must be mistaken. Regardless, this duel will be swift.” The dark-haired knight jostled the painted wood before deciding the fit was solid enough. 

His lance braced on the pommel of his saddle, Kylo rode forth from the stables. The crowd immediately broke into a thunderous roar, chanting his name and “Primus Victorious!” in equal measure. He spurred his steed into a gallop, taking two full laps around the circuit as the praise rang down. 

The people loved their champion. While still a young nation, Primus had a fierce need to prove itself. This was sated by the vigor Kylo showed in every conquest he and his knights took on to further their nation’s borders. When the Knights of Ren rode forth from the castle, it was said that Primus prayed for their enemies to have a swift death and an even quicker surrender. 

Kylo turned to face his competition, settling his lance into a comfortable position. This would be over all too soon and he could go back to his proper duties. 

\---

“The joust is beginning, my lord,” the guard nearest to Hux stated quietly. “Would you like to say anything to the crowd?” The royal looked up from the goblet of wine he had been staring intently at, blinking slowly as he registered what had been said.

Lord Hux shook his head passively. “Leave it until the end of the match,” he decreed, his voice rough after not speaking for the past hour. Truly, one would have thought that the duels would have been the most interesting part of his day; however watching dirty peasants smack each other with swords and maces all day had been bland after the first few bouts. 

He took another draught of his wine - it was a terrible vintage, but asking for a different cask to be brought down to the stadium was pointless now - and glanced over the goblet to the flurry of dust clouds charging at each other. Kylo’s horse was a behemoth, just like his master, racing towards the smaller brown steed with reckless abandon. As their riders tried to strike each other, Hux took a sip for lack of anything else to do, wincing at the wine’s bitter taste. 

Hux sighed, placing the goblet down on the table next to him. His attention waned from the fight in front of him as he considered what he was going to end up wearing for tonight’s feast. This evening there were no visiting dignitaries that he had to curry favor towards, so he need not concern himself with insulting anyone by wearing the wrong shade of navy. His thoughts travelled to a deep emerald ensemble which hadn’t yet made its way from his wardrobe this season. Before he could decide if the crushed velvet was something he wanted to deal with in this heat, he was interrupted by the roar of the crowd.

Down in the arena, one of the riders had unseated the other, their mount trotting a tight circle around their prey. Hux raised a single eyebrow as he realized the dark-colored mound slowly standing back upright was not in fact the challenger but rather was his own Champion. Disgust curled his lip. Surely the Knight Master would be able to best some pitiful backwoods fighter?

His interest waned once more as stable hands rushed in to take the mounts out from the arena and separate the fighters once again. Hux only vaguely recalled what the rules had been decided on with regards to what was considered a win or a loss. His attention flickered to looking over the few other royals in the tiny box they were seated in. Most, if not all, were acquaintances at best of the regent. They were attending the carnival only to curry the favor of the acting ruler, and he had long since brushed off their feeble attempts to capture his ear. Their requests were foolish or far beyond the scope of what he would grant a genuine friend, and none had anything of interest to offer in return.

So they sat at the sides of the box, a clear void between themselves and the ginger-haired man who ruled Primus. He examined their expressions as they watched the fighting below. Ruddy-faced and bellowing with excitement, they were no better than the commoners who chanted in excitement for their Champion to bring the challenger to his knees. Revolting. 

A new surge came through the crowd as the clash of steel on steel furiously began. Despite his disinterest in the sport, Hux found his eyes drawn to the flash of the two knights’ swords against each other. Kylo fought with fierce, continuous rage. His blows rained down upon the challenging knight, huge swooping blows that could cleave flesh from bone if they were to land. His opponent was quick, however, and nimble with his own sword movements. The hand-and-a-half blade he bore seemed to dance in the air, thrusting and parrying away Kylo’s blows with ease.

Kylo bellowed from beneath his helm, turning and letting loose a slice at the man’s side. A gasp came through the crowd and even Hux felt his heart catch in his chest as the challenger dove turned to avoid the hit. A hush came over the onlookers. Hux snorted, unimpressed. All that build up only to be defeated in a matter of minutes. 

He turned to take up his wine once more, the taste be damned, and found himself missing some new excitement. Steel struck steel as the fight resumed - clearly Kylo hadn’t hit the man earlier or he was just toying with them now. 

A cry tore through the air, forcing Hux to his feet. The noise had been feral, raw, and he recognized it instinctively. Kylo clutched at his face, keening as blood flowed freely from a jagged wound that cut from his lower jaw all the way to his brow. His helm lay yards away from him having been cast off by the sheer force of the challenger’s attack. The other knight stood by, passive. His sword rested inches from the ground, held loose but sure. Their head tipped up and scanned the crowd quickly. His eyes found Hux’s and he stopped searching the crowd. 

Hux blinked once, twice. His champion had been defeated? First at the joust and now in a trial of arms? The crowd barely knew what to do with itself, worked into a frenzy as half chanted for the fallen knight and the other for the victor. Hux’s hands grasped for the chair behind him as he wavered. He had only planned a victory speech, not one of concession, on behalf of his Knight Master. 

The guard who had spoken before turned to Hux. “My Lord, do you still wish to speak?” he asked, voice strained. Hux forced himself to break the stare between himself and the victor, redirecting his attention to the poor soul in front of him. 

“What was it that they wanted?” he growled, remembering now the agreement given that the victor be granted one simple request. If it was something trivial, he would make them rue the day they came to Primus. 

“An audience with the regent,” the guard replied smartly. Hux normally would have been proud of his guardsmen for being well informed, but he was still rather taken back by having to acquiesce to the request at all. 

He dropped back to his seat, fingertips drumming a staccato rhythm. “Of course that’s what he wants,” Hux grumbled under his breath. The guard next to him shuffled in his armor, clearly uncomfortable. “Have them brought to the throne room,” Hux decided after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll speak with them there. Easier to keep out the lower class.”

The guard dipped his head in a low bow. “Of course, my Lord,” he murmured. The regent made a noise in his throat as he settled back into his cushioned chair. He would wait before making the ride back to the castle. The crowds were far too riled up for his liking, and he needed to speak with Kylo privately about his apparent incompetence. 

Hux’s lip curled, disgusted.

\---

Rey dismounted from Falca in a jangle of platemail, her eyes scanning the courtyard carefully. She’d been led by one of the white-clad guardsmen - a palace guard, she’d gleaned - to the towering stone structure. The castle itself was a marvel of white stone and gleaming glass windows that stretched nearly the height of three men on the lower level. 

The knight was given no time to marvel. The guardsman assigned to her quickly prodded her through one of the sky-high double doors into an antechamber. The room was as large as the meeting hall where her old order used to meet and decorated with enough gold leaf to feed a small army for a year.

Of course from what Rey knew of Primus, the wealth in this room was from just one of their many conquests. They were ruthless, cunning, and utterly committed to their goal of conquering the continent. Here, in the heart of their territory, they flaunted their power and wealth. That was the goal, Rey was certain. Just one diplomatic visit to the capital of Primus would crush any dissenting fiefdom’s desire to cast aside their allegiance to the kingdom.

Rey chewed on her lip, staring at the gold-encrusted columns that bordered the doors to the throne room. Was she really prepared to-

“Sir, the Lord Hux will see you now,” a voice sounded to Rey’s side. She turned, startled to see a young page standing by her elbow. He couldn’t have been much older than ten, dressed in a stark black tunic and leggings. Rey thanked him quietly and rolled her shoulders to compose herself.

She passed through the doorway and it was only through sheer force of will that Rey didn’t stop in her tracks right there. From the polished black marble floor to the towering frescos, the room oozed luxury. Rey slowly stepped along the plush red carpet that led to the throne, her eyes cast respectfully towards the ground. 

“Stop. That’s close enough,” a voice drawled from the carved stone throne. Rey’s feet stuttered to a halt and she clasped her hands over the pommel of her sword, the image of perfect respect.

Her eyes cast upwards to catch a glimpse of the man she had risked her reputation - nonexistent as it may be - to speak with. Between her eyelashes, she saw a pale, handsome face with an intense expression. Rey didn’t dare speak first. It wasn’t her place to.

Just as she was cautiously looking the regent over, his eyes were scanning her over, taking in every crease and dent in her armor. “So you are the knight who defeated Master Ren,” he finally said. 

Rey nodded, her face still looking only at the man’s shoes. 

“Do you have a name, knight?” he asked, his voice curt. 

“Sir Rey, from the sands of Jakku,” Rey finally spoke. Someone - not the regent - made a t’sk sound between teeth at her title. She lifted her head and realized that she was not alone with the regent. Standing to the right of the throne was the Knight Master she had faced off with. Now that they weren’t in combat, she noticed his untamed mane of hair that framed his sunken eyes. Even without his helm or his weaponry, he was a fearsome sight to behold. 

The effect was lessened by the mess of bloody cloth he was clutching to his face. The wound she’d given him hadn’t stopped bleeding and the crimson liquid slowly seeped down his neck onto the front of his tunic. “Jakku has no nobility,” he growled. “No knight hails from that wasteland.” 

Rey growled low, her teeth clenched. The insult stung, but she soothed her pride by looking again at her handiwork marking his face. “Jakku was my home. It doesn’t change the fact that I defeated you fairly,” she hissed. 

“Enough of this!” the regent snarled. “Kylo, you will keep quiet or you will remove yourself from this room. If defeat bothers you so much, try not to lose next time.” Kylo’s face twisted with rage and pain, but he refrained from further commenting. 

The regent hummed, satisfied, before looking back at Rey. “So, you requested an audience with me, Lord Hux, regent of all of Primus,” he intoned smugly. “What is it you wanted, Knight of Jakku? Come to beg for your lands to be spared?” 

Resentment bubbled deep inside Rey, quickly shoved back down. She met the regent - Hux - with a level gaze. “I came seeking my rightful heritage,” she answered truthfully. “I know my namesake comes from these lands and I wish to find where I belong. Jakku,” Rey glared at Kylo, “is not my future. Primus is.”

\---

Lord Hux frowned, putting a hand on his chin. Truly, he couldn’t care less about where the knight came from, but it intrigued him to think that they had abandoned their homeland and their order to come to Primus, to  _ him _ . This was an opportunity and Hux was never one to squander the chance to increase the glory of his nation.

He sat forward and leveled his gaze on the knight. “If you truly desire to know your heritage, that may be arranged,” he offered, watching his reaction under from his helmet. Hux could only see the knight’s eyes and mouth, but that was enough to tell the man was eager to hear more. 

“However, I need something in return. You understand that, I’m sure,” Hux added. His lip curled in a smug smile. He fully expected to have to bargain and wheedle the knight into exactly what he wanted. 

He was not prepared for what happened next. 

The knight dropped to one knee and tugged off their helmet in a smooth motion. Hux blinked, once again surprised by the actions of this backwater knight. Even more so, though, was his surprise at the knight’s appearance. His hair was cropped short, nearly shaved on the sides and no more than an inch on top. The only difference was a single, narrow braid that dipped from behind his left ear to the knight’s shoulder. His face was narrow with a pointed chin and his… no… her mouth was curled in a tight pout of determination. 

The knight was a woman. One dressed entirely in practical armor and with hair cropped in the fashion of an order which Hux despised with his very being, but still a woman. Fundamentally it didn’t matter - after all she had proven herself to be more than capable in her station - but the sudden realization had sent the level-headed noble for a loop.

Looking over at Kylo, Hux tipped his head slightly and frowned. Had he been entirely oblivious until this moment? However, the Knight Master seemed just as confused as Hux was and just shook his head back and forth. Determined not to let this affect him, Hux cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the knight. 

She tugged her sword loose from its scabbard and rested it in her palms, offering the blade to the regent without hesitation. “As I said, my future is here. I offer to you my fealty as a knight, Lord Hux,” Rey said simply, her tone markedly more restrained than a few moments ago. “I never wish to return to anywhere else.”

Hux considered the knight, looking her over. Her face betrayed nothing except absolute confidence in her decision. He valued that, truly, just as much as he appreciated her skill in besting his own knight even after several rounds of fighting beforehand. There was also the matter of her swearing fealty to him and him alone. Pride was his single downfall, if he was being honest. But he was willing to ignore any possible bias. The benefit of turning the public loss by his champion into a win for the kingdom was too great to pass up. 

Hux rose from the stone throne in one motion, stepping down to the knight’s level in a few short strides. His fingertips skimmed the edge of her sword for a moment before he tucked both hands behind his back. “I do not take oaths lightly,” he murmured, his voice low. His eyes watched her expression carefully, looking for any sign of uncertainty. 

Rey met his eyes evenly, her careful, monotonous breathing the only indication that she was under stress. She said nothing in response and Hux continued. “If you fail, you reflect poorly upon both myself and my station as regent,” he said slowly. “I do not take failure lightly.” He sought not to intimidate the knight but rather to impress his expectations upon her as forcibly as necessary.

“I would not dare let my actions reflect poorly upon my liege lord,” Rey replied quickly. Her insistence made his lip twitch in a ghost of a smile, one he quickly disguised with a flash of his tongue over his lips. 

His hand gripped the hilt of her sword, and Hux hefted the hand-and-a-half blade with ease. The blade flashed through the air as he moved to press the flat against Rey’s shoulders one at a time. “I, Lord Matias Hux, Regent of Primus, accept your oath of fealty. When you rise, Rey of Primus, you shall be henceforth and for all times serve as my vassal,” Hux thundered, his voice filling the throne room. 

Rey’s eyes closed for a moment and she sucked in a deep breath. When she opened them again, they mirrored Hux’s own in ferocity. She caught him off guard and he froze, the sword still pressed to her shoulder. He had to swallow once, twice, before he could continue.

“But before you may rise, there is one other consideration,” Hux said, his voice rough in his throat. 

\---

Kylo seethed from his position next to the throne. The pain had dulled, but he didn’t want to move the fabric blotting the wound for fear of tearing open the barely-formed scab. What stung far worse than the newly-forming scar was the sight of Hux,  _ his _ liege lord, accepting the sword of the knight kneeling in front of him. 

He didn’t care that she had beaten him in fair combat. He didn’t care that she was apparently devoted enough to her lineage to swear fealty to the first Primus noble who crossed her path. All that Kylo Ren cared about was the slow shift in Hux’s attitude from indifferent to  _ intrigued _ . With Hux, it wasn’t a far leap from intrigued to infatuated, a consideration that Kylo resented. 

The Knight Master scolded himself internally. It wasn’t his place to judge the regent’s actions. After all, before all of this he had been the one kneeling before Hux, sword and loyalty offered to the glory and honor of Primus. But the sight still stung him, feeding the dark jealousy inside. 

His attention, however, was peaked when Hux refused to let the woman stand. The ginger-haired nobleman stood high over Rey, holding her sword against her shoulder. The jealousy surged through Kylo again as Hux’s hand replaced the sword. 

“Come here, Kylo,” Hux ordered quietly, not turning his head. “Take this.” Kylo jerked, surprised, but still listened to the regent. He strode over to the pair, tossing aside the bloodied cloth from his face and taking the sword that was extended to him. Holding the weapon which had maimed him so publicly stung his already wounded pride, but he managed none the less. 

His scowl remained as Hux spoke again to Rey. “You belong to me now,” he intoned quietly, “not to your Jedi order.” Hux’s fingertips gently stroked the single trailing braid in her hair. “Kylo, if you please?” The regent’s voice was clear, insistent. 

Kylo stepped around the kneeling knight, her sword in his hand making tight circles with the tip through the air. He stood to her side, looking her over once more. She didn’t flinch, even when he drew her sword to the side of her head. Her expression was level, calm. 

He envied her.

He wanted to run his hands through that short, short hair and --

The blade pressed against her skin, slicing the length of twisted hair off in a single motion. The tip grazed across her skin, and blood slowly welled up, tiny droplets rolling down the blade. Kylo pulled the sword back, smirking in satisfaction. 

Rey didn’t appear to care about the wound, her mouth slipping open as her breathing shifted to short pants. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two men, not settling on either. Hux lifted his hand from her shoulder to cup her chin gently - the sight setting Kylo’s blood on fire. 

“Now you are perfect, vassal,” Hux murmured. Kylo turned away, striding back to the dark crevice by the throne that he claimed for himself. He didn’t wish to see the regent inclining his head to capture Rey’s mouth in his own. The soft sound of surprise from behind him confirmed his fears. His grip around the hilt of Rey’s sword tightened painfully. 

“Kylo.” Hux’s voice stopped the Knight Master in his tracks. It was pure reflex to listen to the regent. “If you walk away, I will make this carnival a yearly affair. And maybe next time you’ll be replaced by whoever defeats you.”

He growled deep in his throat, biting back a reply. But Hux pressed on, knowing exactly how to manipulate him. Kylo hated it, but he couldn’t resist every time. “Come, Kylo. My new knight needs new armor and I’m afraid that I can’t quite manage her fasteners by myself.” 

Kylo’s breath hitched. This hadn’t been an outcome he expected. To be replaced, disposed of once someone with more prowess or loyalty came along - that had been his expectation. But never had he considered the chance that perhaps Hux only wished to add to his menagerie of loyal vassals. 

He turned, looking back at the man to whom he had sworn utmost loyalty to. Hux was now standing behind Rey, his hands resting on her shoulders possessively. His expression was hungry, demanding, yet Hux still was pausing to ensure the happiness of his current Champion. Kylo swallowed back some unnameable emotion and set his mind on that which he was being permitted - encouraged, even - to join. 

“Of course, my Lord,” Kylo intoned, sweeping into a stiff bow. “If the lady permits.”

Rey raised a single eyebrow, amusement tinging her otherwise heady expression. “I am no lady. I don’t break like they do,” she insisted. “If you treat me as such, I will put another scar across your face,  _ Champion _ .” 

Kylo struggled to swallow the keen that fought to escape his throat. In the end, desire won out over his self control and he moved in, pulling Rey from her knees up to his arms to capture her mouth in a fiery kiss. Hux hummed in appreciation before breaking the pair apart to lead them out from the room, away from public view. 

  
It was the first of many times that Kylo regretted just how many hallways there were in the castle. 

**Author's Note:**

> Short-haired Rey is my sexuality. Be prepared for more of her in literally anything else that I do ;D


End file.
